


Come Fly With Me

by royal_arts



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dragon AU, Forbidden Friendship, Found Family, Gen, Hi it's morning, How to Train Your Dragon AU, background puffychu, chief!philza, clingy duo, don't expect regular updates, dragon hunters!wilbur and techno, dragon shifter!other characters but i'm not gonna say who bc spoilers, dragon shifter!tubbo, haha lol see what i did there, hhh i'll tag this properly in the morning, like really background, look it's nearly midnight when posting this first chap and i am very tired, sally makes a really brief appearance but only really in flashbacks, sbi, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, this whole thing is honestly a bit of a bisexual euphemism and i love it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29274771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royal_arts/pseuds/royal_arts
Summary: Tommy, a scrawny misfit and son of the chief of the village of L'Manberg, wants to fight dragons. Of course, as expected of every young teen for the last who-knows-how-many generations.Except whoops, he's shot down and accidentally befriended one of the most feared dragons of his people. Andwhoops, he's now an initiate in the dragon fighting academy.Ignorance and war threaten to plague their worlds, and with Tommy's brothers being some of the most notorious hunters ever, things aren't exactly easy.But hey, he's a son of the chief and he sets a new fire every day. When were they ever?
Relationships: Eret & Floris | Fundy, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & Phil Watson & Tommyinnit
Comments: 29
Kudos: 197





	1. Getting Jiggy With A Crossbow

**Author's Note:**

> Hi lol
> 
> (Edit: I FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO MAKE THIS THING MULTICHAPTERED WHOOO) (turns out i was just pressing the wrong button lmaoo)

_L'Manberg._

Tommy squirmed his way through the half-open door and scrambled out into the open.

_A lovely village, right in the middle of nowhere. In fact, it's a wonder we get any outside contact at all._

He kept to the edge of the crowd, weaving in and out of milling soldiers as they tossed their weapons around. A few greeted him on his way past. Others sneered.

_It's wet and cold and it's winter for three quarters of the year._

Fire blazed amongst the houses.

_But above all, it's my home._

He stumbled over a fallen catapult and kept racing.

_The people are dangerously stubborn, and none of us know how to farm properly. We just plant some seeds and pray that nothing goes wrong._

Voices echoed out as Tommy passed.

"Get back inside, kid!" one shouted.

"What are you doing out here?!" yelled another.

"Tommy, get inside!"

"Get back to your brothers!"

"Where's Sam? Off with ya, go get to him!"

_And also, no one wants me outside past dusk._

He ignored them and scrambled into the alleyway between a pair of houses. Metal weapons clanged against teeth and claws and feet stamped amongst dead grass.

_L'Manberg is a very charming place, seriously. But we have something that others don't have: pests._

"MAN THE BALLISTAS!" someone demanded. Heat exploded from the direction of nearby catapults and canons. Wood was charred and black with cinders.

_Now, other people have mosquitoes and rats and shit. Well that's fine and all, but we have a little thing here called–_

A roar thundered throughout the navy sky. People ducked down, and a column of flame came spewing out of the creature's hideous maw.

_...dragons._

Tommy strained to listen to nearby conversations.

"What've we got?" a voice asked. Phil.

_Affectionately nicknamed 'Philza'. My dad._

"The usual," another replied– Wilbur, he could tell, although it was muffled by something. A scarf or a mask, maybe.

_Will, or Wilbur Soot, as he likes to be called. My older brother. Adopted, but no less family._

"–Nadders, Zipplebacks, and Techno says he saw a couple Nightmares," Wilbur explained.

_Technoblade. Also adopted. Two minutes older than Wilbur, and no one knows his real name._

He continued, "some artillery on fire by the coast, Niki, Eret and Jack Manifold are taking care of it."

_They're a portion of the group that takes care of some of the smaller stuff, while the adults take on the big baddies. The B Team, if you will. Well, not exactly, but... you'll see._

"Good." He paused. "Will, take off that mask, you look ridiculous."

"Ohh, so _Techno_ gets to wear a cool mask, but when _I_ do it–"

"Will, you look like an orca."

Tommy shuffled closer, and Wilbur sounded like he was going to protest, but fell silent.

"...you said those were all the dragons?" Phil said.

"Yes."

He reached out and grabbed Tommy by the collar of his shirt. "How about Terrible Terrors?"

Tommy pouted. "Haha, funny! Now get off of me," he hissed. Phil narrowed his eyes, and Tommy would have shrank back, if he hadn't been dangling several inches from the ground. "Dad, please, I was just–"

Phil pushed him toward the direction of a building, illuminated by a soft fire from the inside and crowded by soldiers. "Get inside, Tommy, and don't cause any more trouble."

"Yeah, thanks, Dad," he murmured.

Wilbur wore a shit-eating grin as he turned back to the rest of the battle. "Ask Ranboo to keep you company! I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

Tommy flipped him off. "Go fuck yourself."

He spun and ran towards the illuminated building.

Sam was there waiting for him, as usual. He was hammering a sword into shape, face covered up by the usual metal mask. It was painted various shades of green with a black, blocky frowny face on it. "It's called a creeper," he'd explained once. "Four-legged cryptids that are said to be able to explode themselves. I should show you the story some time."

"Hey Sam!" he hurried, running to a pile of tangled bolas in the corner. "Sorry I'm late."

"I expected as much," he laughed.

Tommy got to work quickly. It was a familiar routine by now, working alongside Sam and assisting with all sorts of new weapons and contraptions. He felt a bit like a cashier at times, handing out weapons to the soldiers on the fields. For now, though, he was stuck simply holding a couple swords over the fires and keeping them in place as Sam hammered them on the anvil.

Tommy squinted outside the windows. Mostly Nadders, from what he could see, flocking around the destroyed catapults and snapping their beaks at each other.

He hummed. "I reckon I could take one of those," he mused.

"A Nadder?" Sam said. Tommy nodded. "Maybe. Turn."

Tommy flipped the sword around.

"You don't think I can?" Tommy prompted.

Sam shrugged mildly. "You've never fought a dragon, have you? Pull."

He pulled the sword slightly so Sam could work on a different section. "No one lets me."

"For good reason," he said.

Tommy narrowed his eyes, and Sam sighed.

"No offense Tommy, but you're a little young to be out there, y'know?" he said.

"Full offense, Ranboo's part of the B Team!"

"To-be B Team, they haven't started their training yet. And Ranboo's older than you. Turn."

"By like, a couple months!" He begrudging twisted the sword. "I could kill a Nadder if I wanted."

Tommy could sense the playful smile behind the creeper mask. "You, fighting a Deadly Nadder? Pull. The Nadder with claws bigger than your face and a tail that can shoot razor sharp spines with the accuracy of a crossbow?"

Tommy shrugged half-heartedly. "I'll– I'll dodge them. Like a ninja."

"A ninja," Sam repeated, and Tommy was abruptly aware of how dumb he must have sounded.

"Y–yeah," he insisted weakly. "Besides, they can't be _that_ accurate. Reckon I could shoot one of 'em."

"You're free to try," he said, almost teasingly.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. Was that a challenge?

He grabbed a crossbow from the wall and raced to the window. "Look, watch me!"

He aimed. Sam's gaze flitted between the sword he was now holding and Tommy as he stood staring at the Nadder with one open eye.

In, out. His shoulders relaxed, and he fired.

And the arrow immediately swerved, missing the flock of Nadders entirely and heading straight for Technoblade, who wordlessly raised his shield and blocked it off.

Sam stared, not unkindly, and Tommy dropped the bow. "I blame the wind."

"Mhm. Do me a favour, hand out some weapons?"

Tommy deflated. "Fine."

People were always coming by in the midst of battle asking for weapons, or really anything they could fight with. At one point someone had come by to ask for a shield, only to immediately throw it at the nearest dragon. It shattered into splinters on impact.

"Hey– nice throw, dickhead!" Tommy yelled after him.

Suddenly, after what seemed like an eternity of handing out bolas and tossing blades to people, Sam tensed. "Uh oh."

Tommy stopped what he was doing. "What is it?"

"That's a Night Fury roar," he grimaced, lifting up the mask. "I gotta go. Tommy, stay put."

"But I wanna help–!"

"Tommy, no." He grabbed a sword from its hook on the wall and haphazardly put on some dented armour. "You stay right there, alright? I don't want you getting hurt."

"I won't!" he insisted. "Sam, I won't–"

"I don't care. Stay. Put."

He put on the helmet and charged out into the fray.

Tommy grumbled to himself and turned back to the sword he had cooled off in the water. The steam wafted up into his face and he furiously blinked it away.

Why didn't Sam trust him enough to be out there fighting with him? There were people his age putting out fires and dealing with the occasional Terrible Terror infestation, why not him?

Outside, the battle was still raging on. He made out the silhouette of one of the older kids, Eret, ushering someone else with bright orange hair inside before a Nadder could swoop in and grab him. Eret slammed the door shut and chased it away with a bat.

"Hoist the torches!" he heard Wilbur yell. Wooden columns were pulled up, bigger than most of the buildings of L'Manberg, and with a metal bowl on top with coal and wood that was set aflame. It illuminated the night sky and the brawling dragons overhead.

And then the crowd broke off into gasps and shocked cries. An echoey shriek sounded, and Tommy scrambled to the window.

"Uh oh," Techno muttered from somewhere in the crowd.

Wilbur turned to the soldiers. " _Night Fury_!"

"Get down!" somebody else shouted.

People raised their shields, and the creature blasted.

An explosion of purple fire lit up the sky like a shooting star, and in an instant the fishing hut was destroyed. Wooden support beams toppled into a pile as nearby dragons wrestled for the unprotected basins of fish.

"Someone to the catapults!" Phil shouted over the roaring.

Another second, and the artillery was nothing but cinders.

"Archers at the ready!" shouted Wilbur. "Techno, fish hut."

"On it," he said, and leapt into the dragon fight, axe in hand.

"Fire brigade!" he continued, and the B Team came filtering in.

He could name every member of their team at this point. They were the next generation of L'Manberg, the prides of their families, the legacy of some of the best hunters known in the archipelago.

And then there was himself.

Their work was far from graceful, clumsily bumping into each other as they raced to put out fires and patch up roofs, but still Tommy couldn't help but envy them. They were out _there_ , fighting fires and securing nets and checking on artillery. And during a _Night Fury_ attack, nonetheless.

He could be like them. They were, what, 17? 18? What was stopping him from being out there with everyone else?

He paused.

What _was_ stopping him?

Tommy put down the sword, grabbed a crossbow and ran.

The fight was still blazing on as ferociously as the dragons' flames. He weaved in and out of the crowd, hunched over and avoiding eye contact with anyone. Someone knocked shoulders with him as he ran and they spun around, glaring.

"Tom–" they started, but Tommy shushed them before they could finish their sentence. They looked to his crossbow, raised an eyebrow, and continued on.

Eventually he found his way to the edge of the island. The battle was far enough away for no one to notice him, and the sky was quite literally the limit.

He squinted into the darkness. He could make out the faint outline of a trio of Gronckles blasting the houses below, a Zippleback head leaving a trail of flammable gas as it flew and a Nightmare with its tail set ablaze. Tommy wasn't interested in them, though. He had one goal and one goal alone: shoot down the Night Fury.

His finger hovered over the trigger. "C'mon, Furious or whatever your name is. Give me _something_."

The sky was silent.

He must have stayed in place for minutes on end, staring off into the jewelled abyss of the sky, not moving a muscle. He considered sitting down for a moment or two until something interesting happened, but it wasn't worth it. What if the Fury came by again, and he couldn't shoot it from where he was sitting? Or what if another dragon came by and he couldn't run away in time?

So, he stood patiently, combing the black blots of the dragons' silhouettes for the familiar purple light and bat-like wings of the Night Fury.

Then something interesting happened.

Another purple blast hit a building. A trail of stars suddenly went black, and the distant beating of wings sounded.

The Fury's roar echoed almost ominously through the air, louder than any of the other dragons. Its black scales blended into the dark blanket of the sky and blotted out the light of the stars.

Tommy lit up.

_Bingo._

In, and out. He closed his eyes, readying the crossbow.

_Like a Nadder._

He opened his eyes, and squeezed the trigger.

The arrow flew faster than he could keep track of.

The dragon screeched, and it dove down towards the island, writhing.

Tommy stilled.

His eyes went wide as he lowered the crossbow.

"Holy shit."

The battle continued behind him, muffled in the wind like it had snatched away the sound. He let his arms fall, and a grin made its way onto his face.

"I hit it," he mumbled airily. "I hit it– I actually hit it!"

He whooped and punched the air, grinning even wider. His feet rammed into the ground like he was running on the spot. Gods, Phil was gonna be so proud of him.

Tommy bounced giddily and his smile stretched ear to ear. Oh, he was gonna be _famous_ – a sixteen year old being the first in his village to take down a Night Fury!

He threw the crossbow onto the ground and cheered again. "WHOOOOO! Take that, _bitch_! Oh my gods, I'm so amazing–"

He spun around. "I hit a dragon! Did anyone see that–?!"

A puff of warm air met the back of his neck, and his grin fell. Tommy turned around slowly, and his gaze met the slitted amber eyes of a Monstrous Nightmare.

He sighed. "...yeah, figures."

Back at the village, Phil was greeted by the lovely ambience of his son shrieking bloody murder in the distance.

He whipped his head towards the sound, turning away from the writhing dragon's he'd trapped alongside the sheep they'd stolen. Two silhouettes were blotted out against the faint light: a scrawny, armourless teenager running for his life, and a very deadly dragon on his tail.

"Oh, for fuck's sake–" he muttered, and started towards the sound. "Punz, Purpled– keep an eye on that net."

Punz shot him a thumbs up, and Phil sprinted towards his son.

Tommy stumbled on air as he ran, the Nightmare hot on his heels and snapping at his back as he ran. He caught Phil's eyes and pulled a face between beaming in relief and grimacing.

"Dad!" he cried out.

The dragon fired a blast. Tommy ducked and the flames latched onto the second nearest object. The village farm.

Of course.

Chickens flapped out their coop. Connor and Ranboo frantically made their way over and tried (failed) to wrangle them back inside.

"Tommy!" Phil shouted. "Get away from the cliff!"

Tommy skidded to a clumsy stop, right after slamming into Niki as she stamped on the remains of burning wood to put out the flames. Her girlfriend Puffy grabbed her arm before she could fall.

"Tommy–!" Puffy started furiously, but he was already out of earshot.

Tommy squawked as the Nightmare snapped at his heels. It looked almost like it was preparing another shot. He swerved, and it clumsily tried turning to chase him, promptly wacking its tail into the net of dragons. Punz and Purpled could only watch blankly as the beasts took to the air without so much as a scratch on their bodies and a flock of sheep in their talons.

The Nightmare's throat rumbled, and then suddenly its neck was pinned to the floor.

Techno grinned triumphantly, hands tight around the creature's horns as it thrashed itself around like a bull at a rodeo.

"Don't like it, do ya?!" Techno shouted through the howls and snaps. "That's what you get for messing with Technoblade's family!"

The dragon, not knowing a single word of English, slammed itself into a nearby wall, very likely crushing Techno's leg in the process. The audience winced, but he didn't seem to care.

"Tommy," Wilbur said lowly. "Get to safety. We'll handle this."

Tommy took a step back.

The Nightmare locked eyes with him, piercing amber versus pale blue, and it fired.

Tommy screamed, a sound that would surely deafen anyone who stood too close, and raced to something, _anything_ , that he could hide behind.

A wooden pillar. Perfect.

He scrambled behind it and his arms went up like a shield in front of his face. He could feel the heat at his sides, licking at the edges of the wood and lapping at the air. They were like little orange arms, jerking and flickering and begging for something to burn. _Sacrifices, sacrifices..._

Tommy crumpled to the floor, eyes screwed shut. The roaring flames went silent, and he peered around the edge.

The thing's head was on the floor, jaw clamped shut with Techno's foot on its snout.

Wilbur whooped, prompting the rest of the crowd to do the same. Applause filled the air as Wilbur cupped his mouth and shouted, "Go Technoblade!"

Techno shot him a cocky grin, and raised his axe. The dragon's eyes flashed with something like fear, and suddenly it clamped Techno's foot with its teeth and launched him across the cobble ground.

He was sent sprawling into the crowd and by his father's feet. The Nightmare snapped its razor teeth and took off, tail still lashing.

Phil laughed, eyes shining with pride. "Well done, Tech," he grinned, and pat his back. His gaze drifted to the side where Wilbur was standing, then suddenly his eyes went wide and he ran to shove him out the way as the charred pillar came tumbling down, leaving Tommy exposed.

Turns out, it wasn't a pillar that he was hiding behind. It was a torch. And now the ballistas were on fire.

Phil dragged out a sigh. "Fire brigade..."

"On it," a handful of them said, and raced to the scene.

Everyone else, however, stared blunt, dented daggers into Tommy's skin. If looks could kill, he would be dead a million times over.

Tommy stilled. He didn't like this sort of attention. Suddenly he found himself desperately wishing for something to do with his hands, and his whole body felt itchy and warm like people were prodding him with red hot pokers. His fingernails dug into his palm and his shoulders were so tense they were starting to ache.

Wilbur glared. He threw his arm to the side and gestured to the growing blaze that swallowed the artillery. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Tommy shuffled. "...I hit a Night Fury."

Techno huffed and picked him up by the back of his shirt, leaving Tommy squirming like a cub. "This is why we keep you indoors."

Tommy kicked at the air, trying to ignore how the rest of the B Team were either staring or laughing at him. Techno thwacked Jack Manifold's head as he walked past, but it didn't stop any of the pointed looks.

"Hey– hey, off! Let go!" He turned desperately to Phil. "Dad–"

"No sympathy from me, Toms," he said simply. "As chief of L'Manberg–"

"Ooh, he pulled the chief card," Wilbur sang. Phil shot him a look, and continued.

"As chief, it's now my responsibility to clean up your mess, Tommy," he said bitterly, and Tommy suddenly found that his shoes were the most interesting things in the world. "You're grounded. And drop the whole Night Fury thing."

"No– seriously! I shot it!" Tommy squirmed, biting at his brother's arm. "You should have seen– everyone was distracted, but then I managed to aim an arrow and..."

Phil huffed. "Eret, Niki, Puffy, help me clean up the rubble."

They left, and everyone stared at Tommy.

"...I did hit it," he muttered.

"Tommy, shut up," Wilbur sighed. "You cost us a perfectly good herd of sheep."

"Okay, but I shot a Night Fury!"

"Tommy," Techno said, setting down his wriggling form on the doorstep, "that doesn't matter. You put multiple people in danger, and you cost us too much food to replenish."

He wrung his hands around each other. "Techno, I'm sorry, I really am, I just–"

"I'm not the one you should be saying 'sorry' to," he interupted, "you should be saying that to _them._ "

He pointed behind him, to the gathered crowd of people glaring at Tommy. Faces ranged from quiet seething to red-in-the-face rage, and he shrank back at the sight.

"Now, Tommy," Wilbur huffed, "what do you say to all the people you nearly killed?"

"Sorry," he mumbled into his shirt.

He put his hand behind his ear. "What was that?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, louder, glaring at his brother. "I'm sorry for tipping over a torch, or whatever."

"And?" Techno prompted.

"...and for leading a Monstrous Nightmare to the village. And setting loose a net full of dragons. And setting fire to the chicken coop. And almost knocking Niki over the cliff. And destroying a bunch of ballistas. And–"

Wilbur put up his hands. "Okay," he huffed, "that was good enough." He turned back to the audience and waved his arms up and down, ushering them away. "Okay, that's all then, folks! Nothing to see here! Just a regular ol' family reprimanding their little shit of a brother. Go on, get lost."

Slowly, the crowd dispersed, until they were completely alone and could shove Tommy inside without getting any weird looks.

"Alright, you little bastard," Wilbur hissed as soon as the door was locked. "Do you have any fucking clue of what you just did out there?!"

Tommy averted his gaze downwards, to his anxiously shifting feet. "'M sorry."

"'Sorry' doesn't cut it anymore," he said, like he was scolding a toddler. "You're not a baby, okay? You don't get to cry your way out of it."

"I am not crying!" He sniffed. "But– Wilbur, like, _genuinely_ , I hit that dragon. And I promise you I can find it, if I could just–"

"Oh, no you don't." His grasp met Tommy's shirt and he dragged him onto the couch, much to his annoyance. "You are not leaving this house until Dad gives the okay."

"Wilbur, what the–?!"

"I'm gonna go talk with him now, and if you've moved so much as a _centimetre_ away from this spot, I'm getting Techno to punt you into the goddamn sun."

Techno perked up from where he stood, leaning against the doorway to the living room. "What? Why me?"

"Because you're stronger than I am, and you weren't young enough for me to beat you up as a kid." He turned back. "Alright then, Tommy?"

"I–"

" _Alright_?"

His sickly sweet smile made Tommy want to gag.

Crossing his arms, he slumped defeatedly into the couch. "Alright."

"There's a good kid." Wilbur ruffled Tommy's hair, and was promptly clawed on the back of his hand. "I'm gonna go speak to Dad, alright? You behave yourself. Techno, watch over him."

"Heh?" He unfolded his arms. "Why are you putting me in charge of the gremlin?"

"Bye, Technoblade~!"

He left without a second word.

Tommy flopped unceremoniously onto his side, nuzzling his head into the pillow. "Wilbur's a dick."

"Mhm." Techno absently grabbed a book and flipped to a random page.

He huffed. "I mean, honestly! Thinking he can just lock me up in here with you?"

"Yeah."

Tommy sat up. "Seriously! Does he think I'm still ten?" He got onto his feet, the couch creaking under his weight. If he reached up, he could probably have touched the ceiling. "I can handle myself out there!"

"I'm sure you can."

"You've seen my spar, Technoblade, you know I can fight."

"Yep."

"And you know I could take down a dragon if I tried! I could stab one."

"You could."

"Are you gonna say anything else?" He hopped down from the couch.

"Mm."

His mouth twisted into a frown. "I guarantee you, I could find that dragon. I'll be hero of the village."

Tommy blinked. That gave him an idea.

"I could find that dragon," he repeated quietly. "I could find it."

He looked to Technoblade, focused on his book. If he could just find that dragon and bring it back... well, they would have no choice in letting Tommy into the battlefield! If he could take down an entire dragon– a _Night Fury_ – then they would see. Tommy could handle himself. Phil would be ecstatic.

"Y'know what?" Tommy said suddenly, grabbing a jacket. "I'm gonna go let out some steam. Nothing like a good ol' walk to clear the mind, ey, Technoblade?"

Quick as lightning, Techno was on his feet, hand on Tommy's wrist. "What are you doing."

It wasn't even a question. Tommy paled and quickly sat back down, his shoulders tensed. "I was just thinking..."

"You are not leaving the house until Phil comes back, okay? Otherwise I really _am_ gonna punt you."

Tommy yanked his hand away. "Yeah, whatever. It was dumb."

"You're not going out there, alright Tommy? Not while I'm in charge."

"Whatever. I'm going to my room."

"I'm serious, Tommy." He followed him to the stairs, where he dragged his feet slowly up the steps. "I don't want you getting hurt on my watch."

"And I didn't want to be told off in front of everyone, but here we are." He looked down to his hands, clean and without any of the scars and calluses his brothers and father had. "I just... I just wanted to be like you."

Wordlessly, he slipped into his room, head low and eyes downcast.

And silently, he grabbed a spare coat from his closet and leapt out the window.

Tommy could handle himself.

***

His tail flickered as he stared distastefully at the arrow by his feet. It had barely grazed his scales, but it still hurt.

He yawned. He was getting a little tired of this now. The cove had been his home for over two hundred moons now, sure, but the same routine over and over... he was getting a little bored.

His wings fluttered in the gentle night breeze. Only the sound of his own breathing and the occasional ripple of the water filled the atmosphere.

The night was as cold as it always was. But that didn't mean he resented it any less. He often found himself yearning for the warmth of his nest back at home, where the fires burnt bright and his mother sat crooning as he and his sisters lay, asleep.

He hadn't seen his sisters in a while. He hoped they were okay.

He yawned again.

His cave was a welcome blanket of darkness, like the night sky itself took him in its arms and sang him to sleep with the song of owls and the sweeping breeze. He fired a blast at the rock carpet he made for himself, and he was almost warm again.

He curled in on himself, his black tail sitting in front of blue eyes. He tucked in his feet– paws?– and rested his head on the ground.

In the comfort of the stars watching over him and the gentle ambience of bustling life, he slept.


	2. Tommy is A Rebellious Teenager™️

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy goes looking for the dragon.

Phil had always had two main rules for the kids regarding night time: don't trash the house, and don't sneak out.

Tommy was never to great at following the rules.

The forest was a vast expanse, only a while away. Roots tangled into each other over the trodden dirt and leaves fluttered in the wind.

Tommy kicked away a pebble, watching as it bounced across the ground.

"Stupid Techno, doesn't think I can handle myself," he grumbled.

He slapped away a branch and side-stepped to narrowly avoid it thwacking him in the face.

He'd been wandering the forest for what felt like forever. He could barely feel his hands anymore and his feet ached, but still he marched on and squinted against the fog. Grey mist swarmed his vision and the bleak night sky didn't exactly help.

But at least the moon was out. It was a pale circle in the darkness, shrouding the forest in a soft, barely visible white spotlight.

Tommy cursed at the frost under his boots. "C'mon, c'mon," he muttered. Only an owl's coo answered him. "Where are you?"

Silence.

He frowned. "You're really annoying, dragon."

Most people hadn't ventured this far into the forest, with its tangled roots that seemed to shift and trip him up as he walked and its gnarled trees. It was essentially nothing but woodland for a good mile or so, so there wasn't much reason. There was enough room on the rest of the island for extra buildings, their wood supply was fine, all fishing could be done at the docks, and the kids were all perfectly fine playing by the edge of the cliffs and giving their parents multiple heart attacks.

(If asked, Tommy would deny that he once nearly slipped over the edge and that Techno had to grab him before he fell.)

"Come on, I have a curfew," he said to no one in particular. Not that be actually planned on following said curfew.

More silence.

He frowned.

 _The gods hate me_ , he decided. Most people lost what, a pencil? A favourite mug? A toy, every now and again? But _nope_ , he just HAD to lose _an entire freaking dragon._

The dragon wasn't even particularly small, either. No one actually knew the exact measurements of a Night Fury, but this thing was double his size with a wingspan what stretched farther than the length of his bedroom. _And_ it was pitch black. Not exactly blending in with the grass and heather.

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

...this was a really dumb idea, he'd realised after a while.

In hindsight, Tommy should have thought about that before he jumped out his bedroom window with only a spare jacket in the middle of the freezing winter night.

But Tommy didn't like thinking.

Still no sign of the dragon. Or anything, really. It was unsettling, how silent everything was, how only the occasional rustle from a bush or a tree branch filled in the biting stillness.

He looked down at the dirt. No footprints, no claw marks, not even so much as a snapped twig.

A heavy sigh escaped him. "This was a mistake," he mumbled.

What was he thinking, insisting that he could find that dragon? Bullshit. The forest was _massive_ , and there was no way he was gonna find that thing. Not on foot, and not on his own.

"Fine," he admitted, glaring up into the sky. Maybe the gods were watching. Probably pointing and laughing, too. "I give up, alright? I give up! I'm not gonna find this stupid dragon, and I'm not gonna make my family proud. Just–just gonna go back home, and get yelled at, and–and get grounded, again."

The gods didn't answer. They never did, really. Not when he was five and he lost his favourite moth plushie, not when he was ten and wanted a pet pony, not when he was fourteen and desperately prayed that his little 'experiment' wouldn't result in another fire (it did), and not now. Figures.

"Guess I'll just... go," he said. He turned around, his back to the moon.

Then in a heartbeat he was on the ground, shoulders pinned and staring up at a very young but very angry Timberjack.

***

He could smell the boy before he saw him.

Well, of course he could. Humans always reeked of the smell of their kind. And they were so _loud_ – hadn't anyone ever told them to tread quieter? What if there were predators around?

He shuffled a little as the smell became stronger. It was still faint, but the human was definitely approaching.

Strangely enough, he'd actually never properly met one before. He'd always been flying too high, or keeping his distance by staying in his little corner, or just generally ignoring them. The cove was his home for only one reason, and it wasn't exactly for the residents.

...okay, well. _Te_ _chnically_ he'd met a human before, but... it wasn't quite so simple.

He pawed at the ground. He did that sometimes, when he was feeling anxious. He never knew why. All it succeeded in doing was making his claws blunt and tearing at his feet. But he kept doing it, dragging his foot along the stone carpet of his cave, ears pricked for footsteps.

Maybe it would be nice, actually, to meet a human. Maybe they weren't as bad as he thought. Maybe he could have a friend for once.

_Maybe._

He didn't like those chances.

A twig snapped, and leaves rustled.

Had this boy never learnt how to be at least _somewhat_ stealthy? He doubted it.

Dumb human.

He'd only left his cave for a couple moments when he noticed what was happening, after he'd seen a rather cute bumblebee and wanted to see if it was up for being friends. But nope, Fate had other things in mind.

He heard it first. The snapping of a twig, a few tail lengths away. It was quiet, so the boy certainly hadn't made the noise.

Sniffing at the air, he could just about make out the scents of the boy, no longer slowly approaching, and a dragon, perching in the branches of the nearby forest.

He sniffed again. Timberjack, probably. And if his predictions were correct, the boy would be gone sprinting in the other direction in three, two, one...

...and the smell stayed the same.

He tilted his head in confusion. Why wasn't the boy running?

A hop up onto a nearby ledge, and he could see the Timberjack now. Definitely young, adolescent at most, with her broad but spindly wings stretched out and casting a long shadow on the ground in front of her. She was small, even for a dragon that young, so probably a runt.

He raised his head further to get a better look, and– there was the boy! He looked skinny, even for a human, but he was definitely tall. Not that he could really see, since he seemed to be lying on the floor with his arms to his side and his knees bent awkwardly. The boy also had the fur on the top of his head that every human seemed to have, dark yellow and curly. He didn't look anything like the last human he'd gotten close to, with long pinkish fur on his head and broad shoulders and an axe at his side that he never got the chance to use.

And the boy's stomach was exposed! Why was he doing that? Maybe he was offering himself up as an easy kill, but to what?

He looked back up at the Timberjack, lip curled and wings at the ready.

...ah. Probably that.

The boy was silent, not even screaming out in pain or distress. He looked frozen in terror.

He narrowed his eyes. This was hardly a fair fight!

Then his shoulders deflated as he realised what that meant.

He would have to step in, wouldn't he?

Sighing, he crouched down low, ready to pounce. And before the Timberjack could make another move, he leapt forward and out of the cove and shoved her to the ground.

She whimpered as she hit the floor, quickly scrambling to her feet and glaring knives into his skin. **What are you doing?!**

 **Get away from him, runt** , he snarled.

She hissed back. **What's it to you?** **You don't care about the thing, do you?**

He stayed silent.

She scoffed. **Why?**

_Because he's innocent. Because he's defenseless. Because he might want to be my friend._

**It's not fair, is it?** he retorted instead.

She grumbled. **Get away, Fury! It's my kill!**

**He's on my territory, he's mine!**

The Timberjack wasted no more time on words and sprang forward, barrelling into his chest.

***

"Dad!"

Wilbur ran up to his father, who cursed and spat at the fires swarming the wooden beams.

Phil turned and smiled upon seeing Wilbur. "Where's Tommy?"

"In the house," he replied. "How's the fires?"

He sighed, hands on his hips. "Just brilliant. A quarter of our artillery is on fire and almost all the sheep are gone. Oh, and the chicken coop is gone."

As if one cue, a fluttering of feathers sounded, and the two turned to find Ranboo on the ground wrestling with a trio of chickens, trying to herd them into the pen. One pecked at his face and wriggled out of his grip.

Wilbur sighed and picked up the runaway chicken. "How long for the repairs?"

"Sam can only work so fast, and the kids have their training soon," Phil said.

He frowned. "That's... not great. 

"No kidding."

"What about the rest of the village?"

He huffed out a cloud of icy air. "Only so much we can do, Will. Sam says we'll probably get everything fixed in a week, minimum."

Wilbur handed the chicken to the nearest person–Connor– and folded his arms. "Can't wait to yell at Tommy again once we're done with this bullshit."

"Give the kid a break," Phil waved him off, and got to work lifting up a crumpled ballista. Wilbur rushed to the other side and pushed it up as his father continued. "You've yelled at him enough tonight."

"Aren't you mad?" Wilbur managed as he continued pushing the wood back into place.

Phil nodded. "Oh yeah, furious. But honestly Will, I'm too fuckin' tired for this. It's late, we just finished a fight, I'll deal with it later."

Then Wilbur felt a tug at his sleeve, and he looked down to a bright shock of auburn hair.

"Fundy!" Wilbur smiled.

Fundy didn't seem so pleased. He looked exhausted, swaying in place and rubbing his eyes. "Dad, what's going on?"

"We're just sorting out some things," he said, patting his son's head. "You go back home, alright? I'll be with you in a bit."

"Can't sleep," he said. "Can we go home?"

"In a bit, I just need to deal with this." He brushed back some of Fundy's hair with his fingers. "It's late, you should be going to sleep, hm?"

"Dad," he insisted.

He sighed, not unkindly. "I'll be back before you fall asleep, alright? Promise."

"I don't wanna stay on my own," he muttered.

Wilbur knelt down, hands on Fundy's shoulders. "You're tired, okay? You need to go to sleep."

He looked around at the kids, then his gaze landed on Eret. "Eret!"

He turned around.

"Could you take Fundy back home?" he said. "He needs to sleep while I help out here. Make him a warm drink, or something."

Eret looked at Wilbur, then Fundy. "...alright," he decided eventually.

Fundy tugged on Wilbur's arm again. "Dad–"

"Eret's gonna take you home, alright?" He pat Fundy's shoulder. "Catch up in a bit."

"I don't want–"

"Come on," Eret sighed, holding his hand out. "We'll get you a hot drink."

"See?" Wilbur kissed the top of his head. "Goodnight, Fundy, I'll come home later."

"Dad–"

"Goodnight!"

He pat his shoulder again and ran back to the group.

Eret took Fundy's hand. "Your dad's busy. He'll be back in the morning."

"He's always busy," Fundy muttered.

Eret shrugged. "Can't expect too much from a son of the chief."

***

The boy was watching, he could tell that much. It was impossible not to notice, the way he stared with rapt attention and a slacked jaw with his eyes flitting between him and the Timberjack. The boy had probably never even witnessed a proper fight before, let alone a fight between dragons.

And the Timberjack wasn't a good fighter, that was easy to notice. But her razor sharp wings slashed ruthlessly at his face and he tossed his head around trying to avoid them. He struck her torso, sending her onto the floor and flailing around as she tried getting back onto her feet. 

**Now go away** , he barked.

She snapped her jaws and leapt again.

This time, he was prepared. He sidestepped the attack and spun around to find the Timberjack on her back, wings drawn in and tail lashing out like a whip.

He pounced and pinned her to the dirt, a foot pressing onto her neck. 

**Go!**

She sneered at him. **Or what, Fury?**

He remained silent, totally because he was so cool and threatening and mysterious, and not at all because he didn't have an answer.

 ****He growled lowly, the sound like rumbling thunder in the dead of night. The Timberjack hissed, and in an instant she was back on her feet with her wings out.

 **Let me at him!** she yowled.

He spread his wings, blocking out the light. It was almost like a challenge: _You still want to battle with_ this _?!_

She lowered her body, eyes searching him. Then she jumped at him, struck him one last time with her wings sharp enough to cut through forests, and bolted back to her home.

He set himself back on all fours, chest heaving and limbs aching.

Tommy, on the other hand, watched awestruck as the Timberjack fled and the Fury panted and lowered its arched back, drawing back its wings, one of which had a vicious cut slicing through it.

Then it turned, achingly slow, like it had been waiting for this opportunity for its entire life. To kill a human. Tommy's heart thundered, louder than any battle had ever been, and the beast approached.

It padded towards him like the world's biggest panther, dizzyingly blue eyes watching him with an icy gaze. Its mouth was closed, but he still remembered the dragon's teeth like white spearheads in its mouth.

The dragon was _massive_ , was the first thing he could notice. Its piercing blue eyes were each the size of his hand and its wings seemed to be able to stretch on for miles. Its big black head loomed over him like a lion assessing its kill and its feet could probably cover up his whole face.

And in a flash, those feet where at his sides, locking him in place while the dragon glared down at him.

Tommy laughed nervously, his voice threatening to crack under the pressure. "Look, I, uh– listen listen listen, you don't wanna eat me! I– I would taste terrible, honestly, I..."

He trailed off after an irritated (?) snort from the Fury.

He laughed again. "I'm actually really nice, once you get to know me! Y'know, most people find me annoying when they first meet me, but–"

The Fury jerked its head down and nudged his chest, which still heaved with panicky breaths. Tommy scrambled back but the dragon practically slammed its paw onto his torso, pinning him in place.

His breath hitched. _So this is how I die._

But the dragon didn't claw his chest open or slit his throat. Tommy went deathly still as he waited for the beast to strike and his blood to drain out, but when he looked down the dragon was still only sniffing at him.

He blinked. "Are... you're not gonna kill me?"

The Fury eyed him up, huffing out a breath of warm air.

"Not that I'm complaining!" he added. "You know, me, I love... not being dead..."

It tilted its head.

"You're a curious thing, aren't you?" he said, more like a statement since the Fury probably couldn't understand a word he was saying.

It tilted its head further.

"So, uh– hows about we make a deal, ey?" He wasn't making any sense at this point, but he couldn't help of he rambled when he was nervous! "You don't kill me," he said, trying not to keep eye contact with the Fury for too long, "and I won't kill you. Deal?" Not like he had the capabilities of killing a Night Fury, but the dragon didn't know that.

It huffed again, a faint wind on his neck. Suddenly Tommy felt like someone had just dropped snow down the back of his shirt; his blood ran cold, and terror stabbed at him. He was going to _die_ if he didn't get away soon.

He tried controlling his lungs, shaky breath after shaky breath as the Fury leaned in closer. It was poking at his arms now, nudging them to the side. He tried snatching them back, but he could barely move.

He gulped in one last breath. "Look look look, seriously, I– just– fuck– don't kill me Mr. Fury, please, I–I wanna go back home, I wasn't even meant to be out here! My dad was right, my dad was right, I shouldn't have snuck out, I shouldn't have tried to shoot you down, I shouldn't have done– any of this, really, I just–"

The dragon crooned quietly, and slowly it lifted its paw from his chest and settled it back onto the ground. It backed away, and Tommy could sit upright again.

"...you're not eating me?" he squeaked out. "Shit, I wasn't expecting that to work. Uh– thanks."

It stared blankly, but gave no indication that it was going to attack.

Tommy gave himself a mental high five.

Maybe he _could_ handle himself.

***

Fixing up the damage the fires had made and putting out the flames felt like it had taken forever, but they were only gone for about an hour or two. The artillery was temporarily propped back into place on makeshift wooden stilts, and the teens looked exhausted, swaying in place and leaning on each other.

Phil sighed as he brushed off the dirt and soot on his hands and clothes. "Alright everyone, go home now. It's late and we're all tired. You kids did a good job today, I'm proud of you all."

The kids gave half-hearted whoops and exhausted groans, and trudged back to their homes.

"That was fun," Wilbur grumbled as he and Phil walked back.

Phil sighed. "Maybe... maybe we need to cut Tommy a bit of slack. I mean, it _was_ an accident."

"No," Wilbur said. "You–you did what you had to, y'know? Tommy was being reckless, and he caused more damage than can be repaired by the next attack. I think you did the right thing."

"Will–"

"Seriously!" Wilbur interrupted. "He just wasn't thinking. We need _someone_ to put him in his place."

Phil stayed quiet for a bit, only their footsteps filling in the silence. "You know what?" he said after a while, "I reckon we should let him train with the dragon fighting recruits."

"You what?"

He shrugged. "He wants to fight them, doesn't he?"

Wilbur pulled a face. "I– he's just... he's a bit young, right?"

"Ranboo's only a few months older than him."

"Dad, I just don't–"

"Well, we're here." Phil gestured vaguely at the front door to his house. "We'll ask Tommy what he thinks. Plus, Techno runs the dragon fighting academy. They can both put in their two cents."

"...fine," he decided. "But if he burns down _one more thing–_ "

Phil pushed open the door. "Techno, Tommy, we're back."

"TOMMY," Wilbur yelled. "C'mon, we need to ask you something, and I promised Fundy I'd be back by now."

Techno cleared his throat, not looking up from the book he was reading. "He's, uh. He's not here right now."

Phil looked around. "Techno, where's your brother?"

"...he snuck out," he answered simply. "I told him he wasn't allowed to leave and then he jumped out his bedroom window."

"He did WHAT?!"

Phil didn't wait for an answer and bolted up the stairs to Tommy's room.

Wilbur shot his brother a scowl. "Why didn't you stop him?"

He shrugged. "Do you think he would have listened?"

Wilbur groaned and ran upstairs. "Gods, Fundy is gonna be so upset," he hissed.

"Have fun," Techno said.

Wilbur poked his head down, looking at his brother through the banister. "You're not helping?"

"Not my problem."

"TECHNOBLAAAADE–!" Phil shouted from upstairs.

In an instant, Techno was on his feet. "Never mind, I'm helping."

Phil rushed down the stairs. "His coat is gone and his pyjamas are still in the wardrobe," he hurried.

"I told you he'd left," Techno said.

"This isn't an 'I-told-you-so' situation! Put on your boots, Wilbur, go home."

"But what–"

"Your kid needs you, Will. Me and Techno'll go looking for Tommy."

"Fundy has Eret to look after him!" Wilbur insisted. "We gotta find our Tommy first, Fundy'll understand."

Phil looked like he wanted to say something more, but simply narrowed his eyes. "Boys, put on your coats. We're gonna find that little gremlin."

***

He had only been observing when the boy suddenly sprang to his feet, eyes wide. The boy whipped his head between the forest and his gaze, mouth pulled into a frown and knees bent like he was preparing for battle.

He said a word he didn't recognise, and then, "You gotta go!"

He never learnt the language of the humans, not properly, but he could get by. Over two hundred in the cove and he didn't exactly have much to do. So, he listened.

He could always hear the humans chattering when he listened close. Talking about a hundred different subjects on a hundred seconds. How did the humans do it, hold conversations for that long without getting bored of each other?

He never got bored of the humans. Horrified, scared, confused? Certainly. But bored? Never.

The boy didn't look too bored, either. He looked stressed. He waved his hands up and down at him while anxiously scanning the rest of the forest, shooing him back to the cove.

Why did he look so scared?

Maybe he could hear predators?

That would make sense, at least. Seeing the boy up close, he hardly looked like any less of a runt than the Timberjack. He was slim, but that was expected of a lot of humans. And he stood like he was always scared of something, with his shoulders hunched and arms hanging awkwardly by his side.

 _And_ the boy seemed to be scared of him, but he had no idea why. All he'd done was nudge his arms and face a little! What was the harm in that?

The boy was insistent, ushering him away but not actually touching him. "C'mon, man– uh, dragon– you've gotta–gotta go, please. Go away, c'mon–"

Slowly, he backed away, further and further closer toward the cove.

He warbled. **But, I saved you–**

He put a finger to his mouth and made a strange hissing noise, like he demanded silence.

 **What about you?** he continued. What if the boy got hurt?

"Back to your cove," he whispered. "Come on. Shoo, dragon, shoo! Fuck off already!"

He tensed, like he'd just been struck. He just saved him, and this is how he was repayed?

"I said fuck off!" the boy repeated louder.

He stepped back again.

 **Why are you upset?** he tried asking, but stopped himself. He wouldn't understand.

He paused, then bared his teeth in an empty threat as he dropped back into the cove, pacing the ground. The boy glanced down at him for a second and then ran back to the forest without looking back.

Stupid, typical human. Never worth the time of day.

...

Which was why he'd made the incredibly intelligent executive decision to jump out the cove and follow this boy.

***

"Tommy!"

Wilbur leapt forward and looked like was moving in to hug him, but instead awkwardly pat his shoulder. It wasn't exactly easy trying to move around when Fundy was now sat practically glued to his back. "Oh, gods, you're okay."

"Toms!" Phil caught up soon enough, Techno by his side. He rushed to his son and immediately swallowed him in a bone-crushing embrace. "Thank the gods!"

Tommy went red in the face, not only from embarrassment, but likely because he was suffocating. "DAD– CAN'T– LUNGS– BREATHE– HCK– OW," he wheezed out, wriggling his entire body. "DAD–!"

Phil dropped him and promptly cuffed him on the back of his head. "Now what the hell were you thinking, going off on your own?! You could have gotten hurt!

Tommy dropped his gaze to the floor, anxiously scratching the ground with his foot. "I was... on a walk?"

Phil glared.

"...I was looking for the Night Fury," he admitted. "And–and I didn't find it."

Techno blinked slowly. "You," he started, "you wasted my time, with a dragon, that you didn't even shoot down?"

Tommy nodded slowly.

Wordlessly, Techno pulled out his axe and glared. "Now, Fundy, I'm gonna show you something called a hit and run."

Wilbur grabbed the weapon off of him. "You're not killing my brother in front of my son."

Tommy's eyes widened in realisation. "Ohh, why'd you bring the furry with you?!"

"I am not a furry!" Fundy squeaked. "I don't even know what that means!"

"He followed us and he wouldn't go home until we let him come," Wilbur said exasperatedly, then paused. "Does Eret even know that you're gone?"

Fundy blinked. "...yes," he lied.

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "Oh my gods, you've probably given the poor thing a heart attack–"

Tommy coughed. "Let's just– go home. Please?"

Phil pat his shoulder. "Fine. It's late, we're tired... Wilbur, you and Fundy go back home. I'll deal with you," he added, shooting a look at Tommy, "in the morning."

Tommy kicked away a pebble. "...am I grounded again?"

"You should be," Phil said, "but I can't do that. Especially not if we're gonna go through on signing you up for dragon fighting."

" _YOU'RE SIGNING ME UP FOR_ WHAT _?!"_

Whoops _._

Tommy looked ecstatic, grinning ear to ear and practically vibrating in place. His eyes lit up like stars and Phil could have sworn he heard a squeal from him.

But then, like something dawned upon him, he stopped. His smile faltered and the brightness in his eyes flickered uncertainly.

"...what's wrong?" Wilbur ventured.

Tommy waved the question off. "Nothing, I–I'm tired. Can we go home?"

"Now?" Fundy added, butting Wilbur's head. He laughed softly and nodded.

"Alright, then. Let's go."

Techno stepped forward and effortlessly slumped Tommy over his shoulder and went to join the rest of their family as they walked back home.

Instead of kicking and whining like he usually did, Tommy only pouted. "Hey! Technoooo–!"

"You said you're tired, aren't you?" he deadpanned.

Tommy blinked. Well, he _was_ tired. And cold. And his heartbeat still hadn't fully recovered. And dammnit, Techno was warm and strong and his slumped position wasn't exactly _hurting_ his posture, so he wasn't going anywhere.

But even as he lay staring at the ground, he didn't miss those blue eyes in the veiled shadows of the forest. They trained on him like a hawk and seemed to shift around the place as graceful as a bobbing swan, flitting between his face and his body and watching the footsteps Techno left behind.

He wished he could have ignored it, but the dragon was making it impossible, the way it padded around the brush.

At one point, Wilbur, ever the expert dragon hunter, stopped in his tracks and scanned the trees. "Did anyone else hear that?"

Tommy had never seen a living creature stand so still, it was almost creepy. It closed its eyes, blending with the shadows and hardly even breathing until Wilbur shook off the thought. "No, I'm tired. We should get home quickly."

And as they ambled home, tired and cold, Tommy had only one thought on the mystery that was the Night Fury that roamed the cove, pacing the forest and defending strangers from trespassers.

_You are one weird fucking dragon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stalk me on tumblr @song--fox and roast me if you see a typo <3


	3. Dens, Dragons and Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil holds a village meeting. Well, _Wilbur_ holds a village meeting. Phil is just trying to stop him from standing on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this instead of doing my computer science hw so if this seems rushed then no it's not /j

"It's either we finish them, or they wipe out humanity as a whole. Whatever we do, we need to do it _now_."

Phil sighed and tugged on the hem of his son's tunic. "Will, you promised no more dramatic speeches in meetings."

"Well I revoke that!" Wilbur hopped down from where he stood on the table, wiping off the stray bits of dirt from his boots that stuck onto the map. "If we find the nest," he said lowly, "we can take them all out in one fell swoop. We kill them all before they get a chance to lay a hand on us."

"But dragons don't have ha–"

"Oh shut up, whoever that was."

"Alright, Will," Phil huffed, "remember whose meeting this is."

"It's ours, Dad!" He put his hands on his shoulders, ignoring the onlooking villagers. "Don't you want to do something for all our people who were hurt by the dragons? Don't you want _vengeance_?"

"Will–"

"I want my revenge, Dad. They've killed hundreds of us."

Phil frowned. "I get that, but–"

"Dad, they're _merciless_. What next, after they finish off L'Manberg? The next town, the next country? They won't stop!"

"Will–"

"I want to do to them a thousand times what they did to Sally."

He frowned. "You got her pregnant at sixteen, Wilbur. Not really sure how you can top that."

Wilbur flushed. "Dad, please, half the village is here–"

"Anyway," he continued, taking Wilbur's hands, "we still don't know what happened to Sally, Will. You can't always assume the worst."

"I know what happned to her!" he snapped, marching to a corner of the room where a diagram sat, depicting all sorts of different drawings of dragons. His eyes drifted to one drawing in particular: a Hobblegrunt, curled in on itself with its head raised proudly.

He still remembered that day, crystal clear. Past sunset. Rippling waves. Clawprints in the sand. Only the necklace, the one he'd made for her with a pinkish-white shell and the metal chain he'd stolen from one of Techno's capes, remaining. The Hobblegrunt lingering on the shore, warbling and jaw twisting into a growl upon seeing Wilbur.

Wilbur shook away the memory. No time for that now.

"Our time to strike back is now," he said. "If we can find the source– the _nest_ – and destroy it, we can wipe them out for good."

A voice in the crowd piped up, "How do we even know there's a nest?"

"There has to be, I–"

Wilbur looked up. "Jack Manifold? What are you doing here?"

Jack shrugged.

Wilbur waved him off, locking his gaze back onto the map. "Just– someone escort him out, please."

He was promptly grabbed by his arm and dragged out the hall.

"Anyway," Wilbur continued, "there has to be a nest, out there. I'm sure. They all have to come from somewhere. Destroy the source, and they find another home."

"And if they don't?" someone said.

"Then we kill them."

A silence settled over the room, broken only by incoherent murmurs and people scuffing their feet along the floor.

"What happened to fighting with our words?" someone finally asked. The people nodded carefully.

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. "Because surprisingly enough, we can't talk to dragons. And even if we could, you know they wouldn't listen."

He straightened up again, clearing his throat and raising his head. "All I'm suggesting is another few searches before the ice sets in. I'll lead a fleet of ships to the north, we'll scour the area and hunt down whatever we find. If we're lucky, we'll flush out some nearby islands and lower the attacks to our home."

"Why are _you_ leading it?"

"Oh I'm sorry, did the chief put _you_ in charge of the last twelve hunting parties?"

"Where's Technoblade?"

"Technoblade doesn't care!" Wilbur threw his arms up in frustration. "I'm– he's not even at this meeting! Point is, I'm in charge here. I'm leading the ships."

He knew exactly where he was going, too. One glance at the map and he could remember exactly where they'd been, which paths led to victory and a successful hunt and which places ended up in them shooting their crossbows and retreating with their tails between their legs.

"Why should we even listen to you?" an audience member spat. "We haven't found a single nest in the past!"

"Because!" His face hardened. "Look, if there's even a _chance_ that the nest is out there, we need to hunt it down. And I'm leading it."

"We've stayed alive for this long! Why bother getting ourselves killed looking for some so-called nest?"

He leaned over the table. "Do you really want your kids growing up like that? Raising your _families_ like that?"

Silence, again. Until Phil stood up.

"First, Technoblade is just as much a hunter as you are, Wilbur," Phil began, shooting him a stern look. "And I call the shots on who's leading what."

"Dad!"

"I'm not finished," he snapped. "But yes, I think you have a point."

Wilbur grinned. "Dad."

Phil sighed heavily, his shoulders seeming to drag his whole body down. He made his way to the table, shot Wilbur a sad smile, and spoke up.

"Wilbur's right," he said, his gaze growing cold. "We need to find the nest. We–we can't let our people keep living like this, not when there's lives at stake."

"Most ships never return!" someone pointed out.

Phil nodded solemnly. "That's true. But it's for the good of our people. Think of your families, your children– they can't grow up like this. They _shouldn't_ grow up like this. Sleeping four nights a week, not knowing if or when their families will be back– it's inhumane. I can't let Tommy grow up in that world."

And dammnit if he didn't work hard as hell to make sure that he wouldn't. Wilbur still recalled the countless nights he watched his father reading storybooks and tucking Tommy into bed instead of doing whatever chiefly duties called. Even Wilbur himself had stepped up to the task when his father was busy, strumming his guitar and making up songs that made baby Tommy giggle and clap. Techno had told him a story or two before, but Tommy had only ended up bawling and spouting gibberish about some "Blood God".

His father was right. They couldn't grow up in that world.

"Nobody can!" Wilbur added. "Tommy, Fundy, the recruits, everyone else– we can't. We have to destroy them."

The crowd exchanged glances, as if having conversations with only their eyes. A couple muttered under their breaths, and some tugged uncertainly at their tunics and jackets.

Wilbur huffed. "Oh, come on!"

"Guys," Phil piped up, patting Wilbur's back, "please. We know how big of a risk it is, but think of how much better the lives of future generations will be. Our families, our children..."

Wilbur put a fist on the table. "Now who's with us?"

Still only murmurs and silent eye-conversations without a single hand raised.

"Come on!" he said again. "Besides, would you really rather spend the time looking after Tommy and–"

Instantly every hand shot up, and the hall echoed with a resounding, "Aye!"

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. "Bit mean to Tommy, but it works."

Phil sighed in relief. "Good then," he said, looking around at the crowd of people with their hands raised. "Meeting dismissed."

They quickly filtered out the hall, when Phil added, "Not you, Sam, stay behind."

Sam shot him a quizzical look, but sat back down.

Phil looked to his son. "Now Will, if you're ever gonna bring something like that up again, talk. To. Me. Okay?"

Wilbur made some sort of sound, and Phil shrugged. "I'll take that as a yes."

Once everyone had left, he beckoned Sam over, scanning warily over the map and all the paths they'd followed beforehand. One of them led to Scauldron-manifested waters, one of them led to an island of Fireworms, one of them led to where Techno had made his first kill, and one of them, as Wilbur was very happy to point out, was shaped like a–

"What do you need me for?" Sam asked after clearing his throat.

Phil hummed, as if mulling it over, then spoke. "We're thinking of signing up Tommy for the dragon fighting academy," he said, his words still tainted with uncertainty.

Sam nodded slowly. "Okay," he said. "Sounds... good?"

"We need more opinions," Phil explained. "I think it'll be a good way for him to let out some steam, y'know? See if he's up to it, if he really wants to do it."

"I still think it's a bad idea," Wilbur added. "What if he, I don't know, fucks up again?"

"Don't talk about your brother like that," Phil said, furrowing his brows. "Tommy's more than capable. He shot down a dragon, didn't he?"

"Don't tell me you actually believed him when he said that!" Wilbur asked incredulously. "Besides, he said it himself, he didn't find it. And yeah, Tommy's capable, but he's a little... accident prone, y'know?"

"It's fighting, there's only so many ways he can mess up."

"Oh yeah, just dragons in captivity, plenty of sharp weapons and a swarm of kids that are older than him. I don't like it, Dad."

"Techno's gonna be there to supervise, remember?"

"Techno, Mr. 'Blood for the Blood God'? Keeps a wall of axes in his room?"

"He's your brother, and Tommy's hero. Tommy can handle himself, don't you think?"

"Not necessarily, if I'm being honest. Look, I love Tommy, but did you see the disaster he made yesterday?"

"He's learning, and besides, we've dealt with worse."

"Yeah, from _dragon attacks_. He could get seriously hurt!"

"And if he does, we'll just patch him up or withdraw him from the academy until he's ready again."

"But what if–"

"We can–"

"How about–"

"He'll just–"

"You can't–"

"Oh my gods you two, _enough._ "

The pair looked over to Sam, who stood glaring at them in frustration. Then his expression softened. "With all due respect," he added carefully, "I think the chief's right."

"What?" squawked Wilbur at the same time as Phil whooped, "Suck it!"

Sam continued, "Tommy's a bright kid, and more mature than he lets on. If he wants to join the academy, I say let him."

"But what if–?"

"If he gets hurt, then it's nothing we can't handle. We have the weakest dragons fighting in that arena. The worst that'll happen to him is a light mauling."

Phil's eyes widened. "Sam–!"

"Okay, yes, bad joke," he conceded. "But my point is, I think it'll be good for him. Let him see if this is really what he's good at. He'll have fun."

"And if he gets torched?"

"Then it's a learning experience."

"And if he _dies_?"

"Banish me to a remote island and hunt down my bloodline for sport."

"We're talking about my _son_ here."

"And my apprentice. I know him just as well as you two do."

Phil raised an eyebrow and looked to Wilbur.

Wilbur's mouth twisted into a frown. He had to admit, it sounded a little tempting.

Then the door bounced loudly against the wall, and footsteps echoed through the hall.

"Sorry I'm late," Techno said, half-eaten sandwich in hand.

Wilbur furrowed his brows. "Techno, the meeting is over."

He chewed thoughtfully on his sandwich. "Whoops."

He took another look at him and cringed. "Oh my gods– Techno, why do you smell like shit?"

Phil lightly slapped his arm. "Don't be crass, Will, I'm sure he– you know what you're right actually, why _do_ you smell like literal shit?"

Techno shrugged again. "There were complications," he said simply.

Wilbur narrowed his eyes, but he didn't press on.

"What did you talk about?" Techno asked.

"The nest," Phil said. "And–"

"Again?" he deadpanned. "Isn't this like, the third time?"

Wilbur glared. "It's an important matter."

"And," Phil carried on, "signing up Tommy for the academy."

Techno swallowed his food. "Huh. I'm down for the academy."

"Three against one," Sam said, smiling.

Wilbur turned to his brother. "Really? Just like that?"

"No one's ever gotten hurt from wielding weapons and swinging 'em around in an arena full of inexperienced kids and dragons," Techno said.

"Techno."

"I'll still be there," he added more seriously. "And Eret's gonna be with the kids, too."

Wilbur paused. "Alright," he said slowly. "Maybe."

"Oh, so you you're not alright with _me_ but you're fine with _Eret_?!"

"Well unlike you, I actually trust Eret!"

"He's nineteen!"

"Almost twenty!"

"I can't believe you trust your kid's babysitter more than me. I mean, I totally get it, but I still can't believe you."

"Don't talk shit about Eret. He's more than a babysitter."

"Boys," Phil warned.

"Either way," Sam said, "what's your call, Wilbur?"

He drummed his fingernails on the table. "...fine," he conceded. "You're right, you're right. It'll be good for him. I think."

Sam nodded, grinning softly. "Oh, and another thing."

"What?"

He looked to Techno, who stared plainly at him. "What?"

He coughed.

Techno blinked. "Oh, yeah, that." He turned to Wilbur. "We talked about signing up Fundy for the academy."

" _What_?!" he yelped, slamming his hands on the table in protest. "No, absolutely not! He's way too young!"

"He's nearly Tommy's age," Phil protested weakly.

"Barely!" he hissed. "If you think I'm letting my fourteen year old son join an academy filled with fire-breathing war machines and post-pubescent teenagers, you've got another thing coming–!"

"Oh come off it, Will," Phil said. "Let's see what they have to say."

He nodded at Sam, who returned it and continued, "Fundy's a special kid, I think we all see that in him. He's quick, he's strong, he's clever, and he's a better tracker than some of our men. He has the workings of an incredible hunter."

Phil hummed. "Okay," he said, "I get you. But I'm skeptical. He's just so young, and he might–"

"No," Wilbur interrupted. "That's final. I'm not letting my son one foot into that arena."

"But–"

"I said no!"

He made to leave, but Techno grabbed his arm and yanked him back into his seat.

He glared. "Tech–"

"Let the man speak," he said.

Wilbur, still scowling, sat back down. "Fine."

Sam, now looking slightly more scared than before, nodded slowly. "Uh, right. I– he just has potential, don't you think? He could be a fully-fledged hunter by the time he's seventeen."

"He's fourteen right now, thanks very much, and I'd rather he didn't get burnt alive before he's even allowed to drink."

"How little do you trust me?!" Techno cried. "The kids will be fine, Wilbur! I know what I'm doing!"

"I– he's– just– you– AAA–!"

Phil pat his back as he slammed his head on the table, muttering something about how much he hated English. "He's just worried," he explained. "But I think you're right, actually."

"Dad!" Wilbur wailed, muffled slightly. Quite frankly, he was baffled that they were even still talking about this. Fundy was his _son_!

"Remember last night?" Phil ventured. "When he was the one who realised where Tommy was in the first place?"

...okay, _maybe_ he had a point there.

Of course he remembered how they found Tommy. Pretty hard to forget, with how Fundy had appeared quite literally out of nowhere and pointed out the footsteps that the rest of them had somehow failed to see (Techno blamed it on the bad lighting). And with how Fundy had instantly plastered himself onto Wilbur's back and refused to leave until they were back home together. Eret had slumped tiredly against the doorframe in relief once they caught sight of him, before promptly calling Fundy a demon and ushering him inside.

He lifted his head up. "Okay, he'a a good tracker. So?"

"Wilbur," Sam said, treading carefully, "with all due respect, I think you might be being a little overprotective."

"Oh, I'm being overprotective for not wanting my kid to die a fiery death at the hands of some dragon? Well, silly me then! Why don't we go shove into a pit of Speed Stingers, eh? Drop him off at Changewing Island?"

Techno coughed. "Dragons don't have hands."

"Oh, shut up!"

"Wilbur," Phil chided.

He looked to his father's face, stern but caring, then Techno's, indifferent but still searching him, then Sam. Sighing, he slumped further into his seat, head low and eyes refusing to meet anyone else's. "I'm sorry. I know he'll be in safe hands. I know he won't get hurt. But I can't risk losing another person to those _things_."

"And I get that," Sam said, slowly and quietly like he was trying not to wake a sleeping bear, "but I really think Fundy's up for it. And he has Tommy and Eret to look after him."

Wilbur hesitated.

Fuck, he was making a really good point.

"Plus," Techno added, "it'll keep him busy while you're gone on your little hunting trip."

He hummed. "Fundy doesn't have any trouble keeping himself entertained while I'm gone."

Sam and Phil shared a look, and Techno snorted. Wilbur looked around, confused. "What?"

"Please," Techno snickered, "last time you were gone? He spent the entire three days staring out his window waiting for you. Eret and Tommy had to keep checking up on him to make sure he didn't starve."

Wilbur sighed. "Okay, fair. I'll sleep on it."

"You will?" Sam perked up, eyes shining.

He stood up. "Apparently so. And, Techno? If I come back home and my son has a single bad thing to say about you, I'm snapping your favourite axe in half. Got it?"

"I'm so terrified. Got it."

Wilbur gave him a nod, and left without another word.

Techno watched him leave, still munching on his food. "Are we done now? Can I go back home?"

"Is that a fish sandwich?" Sam ignored him.

Techno nodded and took another bite. "Yes. It tastes just as bad as you think."

"Lovely." He tried not to grimace. "Um, my anvil needs me."

"And I should get back to my... sword... polishing."

"And I should make sure my son hasn't set anything on fire." Phil stood up. "Well, nice speaking with you, gentlemen. Get some rest. Academy's starting up soon."

"Yep." Techno made his way to the door, but before he left, he turned back and said, "Oh, and Tommy's not at home. He snuck out again."

Phil wasn't even angry at this point. His shoulders slumped and he stared at Techno with a deadpan scowl. "And you didn't stop him, why?"

"I was late for the meeting." He shrugged and closed the door behind him.

Phil let out a drawn-out sigh. "That little–"

"– _son of a bitch_!" Tommy hissed as his pencil clattered against the rocks of the cove below, and the Night Fury lifted its head and met his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter for today, this and ch4 were originally supposed to be one but i finished this part and was like "oh fuck this is way too long"
> 
> Tumblr is @song--fox, roast me if you see a typo <3


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